


star light, star bright

by jenuyu



Series: touch the sky [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Chaebol au, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-29
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-05-15 15:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14793383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenuyu/pseuds/jenuyu
Summary: Chenle just wants to be able to stare at the cute dancer at the studio in peace, but karma (read: the best wingman) has other plans for him.





	star light, star bright

**Author's Note:**

> first star i see tonight  
> i wish i may, i wish i might  
> have the wish i wish tonight

Chenle doesn’t believe in superstitions. Whenever he sees a black cat, he rushes forward to pet it, and he’ll happily open umbrellas indoors. He’s walked under plenty of ladders and broken more mirrors than he can count— not like it’s on purpose, of course, but sometimes accidents just happen. Renjun hates it, the way that Chenle steps on the cracks in the sidewalk. He’s convinced that Chenle is going to get a lifetime’s worth of karma coming to him all at once, and Chenle always, always laughs right in his face for it.

Chenle doesn’t quite feel like laughing anymore. He’s just tripped on literally nothing at all while walking down to the bubble tea shop closest to his school to grab something quick to drink, and everything hurts. Even his tailbone hurts, which is a feeling that he hasn’t had ever since he decided to slide down the banister in his family’s summer home in Bali.

“Um, are you okay?” There’s a disembodied voice coming from above him, and Chenle blinks blearily. A face comes into focus, one that looks vaguely familiar, and Chenle takes the hand that’s been extended out to him.

“Where have I seen you before?” Chenle asks, ignoring the throbs of pain in every single part of his body and trying to figure out just why this kid in front of him looks so damn familiar.

The boy looks around before he points at the storefront they’re standing in front of. “I like to dance here after school, maybe you’ve seen me through the windows?”

Chenle looks up at where the boy is pointing, and— oh. They’re standing right in front of the GO dance studio, and Chenle’s memory clears and suddenly, he can remember everything now. The reason that this boy looks so familiar is because Chenle’s walked past this studio every day this entire school year on his way to the bubble tea shop, and every day, he’s seen this boy dancing in front of the windows. Chenle remembers always stopping to stare for just a few minutes each day, completely in awe of how fluid and coordinated the boy’s movements are, and he wishes that a crack would just open up in the ground and swallow him whole.

It’s not every day that Chenle trips on nothing but his own two feet in front of a boy that he’s had a mild crush on for the past eight months, but today is the day.

Maybe Renjun was right all along.

 

 

When Chenle tells his story to Renjun and Jaemin the next day at lunch, Renjun gets a look on his face that practically screams _I told you so_ , and Chenle says, “Before you get any ideas, no, karma is not coming for me, so don’t you dare say you told me so.”

Of course, it only makes Renjun open his mouth and say, “I told you so.”

“Wait, tell me again what you said when he helped you up. You told him that you were sorry for tripping? Why would you do that?” Jaemin asks instead, cradling his chin in his palm. “Are you stupid? I thought you said you weren’t dropped as a baby, but were you lying?”

“Don’t be mean to the child,” Renjun chides. “He doesn’t know any better.”

“Don’t be mean to me,” Chenle parrots. “Jaemin-hyung, listen to Renjun-hyung. I do know better, but I said sorry because I felt bad for interrupting his dancing. Is that not a kind thing to do?”

“Who even apologizes to someone who willfully does something to help them? It’s not like you tripped into the front door of— what was it again, a bubble tea shop?— and asked him to help you up.” Renjun shakes his head. “Sometimes, I wonder if you should really be allowed to inherit. TTF is going to die underneath your care.”

“Don’t be mean to me, Renjun-hyung, you said it yourself!” Chenle’s voice goes up to an almost ultrasonic frequency, one that makes both Renjun and Jaemin wince. “Anyway, it wasn’t a bubble tea shop. It was a dance studio. It’s the one that’s about a ten minute walk from this school if you just head down the main road.”

“Wait,” Jaemin interjects, his gaze suddenly sharp. “Dance studio? You mean the one that has the really big windows in front?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean. You know it? It’s called GO, and that boy is always dancing there whenever I drop by the bubble tea place after school to get something. He’s so cute. His cheeks are really puffy like balloons.” Chenle sighs. What he wouldn’t give to be able to have cheeks like those. Or to touch those cheeks. Either is fine with him, if he’s being completely honest here.

“Okay, okay, let me summarize. You said you wanted to date this lanky boy that always hangs out at the dance studio after school? You said he’s cute and puffy like a balloon? Does he always wear a purple hoodie with questionable symbols on it?”

“That is exactly what I said,” Chenle huffs. “And yes, how did you know? Are you a stalker?”

“Too bad, then. Park Jisung is off limits to everyone and anyone, and especially off limits to you. He’s kind of my child, you know,” Jaemin says, bringing his cup of iced coffee to his mouth and taking a long, long sip before looking over at Chenle with something like derision in his eyes. “By the way, I was the one who got him that hoodie. That was for his fifteenth birthday last year. ”

“What— wait, how do you know his name? You got him that hoodie? But it’s so cute on him!”

“We used to play together as kids because his dad works in consulting and he helped my dad out with a long-term project. He calls me Jaeminie-hyung. Sorry, I don’t know if you’re good enough for him, Zhong Chenle. Jisung is one of a kind. I love him, and I would gladly die for him. I changed my mind, you were right to apologize to him for wasting his time by helping you up.” Jaemin finishes off his coffee with a loud slurp, looking Chenle directly in the eyes as he does so. “And that’s all he wrote.”

Chenle bangs his head on the table— once, twice, then thrice, which he hopes is enough to make himself lose all memory that this ever happened. Someday, he hopes that Na Jaemin will finally get what’s been coming for him. He doesn’t believe in karma, but if karma is willing to royally screw up Jaemin’s life as much as he’s meddled with Chenle’s, then he’s all on board.

 

 

Along with superstitions, Chenle also doesn’t believe in Jaemin and his supposed threats to “End your family’s business prospects in all of South Korea— and yes, that includes Jeju Island, so never think about going there for tangerines ever again— if you even think about approaching Jisung, so help me god.” Chenle snorts. It’s probably some bullshit alpha posturing anyway. He could buy out Jaemin’s family’s entire chaebol and have money left over to buy out Renjun’s family business while he’s at it.

He goes by the dance studio again the next day. As usual, the boy— Jisung, Chenle reminds himself, it’s Jisung— is practicing a routine in the windows, and Chenle stares. This time, though, Jisung seems to notice someone watching and he stops dancing to look directly at Chenle. He cocks his head, clearly trying to place Chenle’s face, before his eyes widen in recognition and he waves at Chenle.

Chenle takes it as a cue to walk forward and push the door of the dance studio open.

“Hi,” Chenle says. Suddenly, all the lines he’s spent last night rehearsing in the bathroom mirror dissipate, and he’s left with nothing but tumbleweeds rolling around in his head. “Um. Thanks for helping me up yesterday. You really did me a solid there.”

“Oh, it was nothing. It looked like a pretty big fall.” Jisung looks at Chenle, turning his head this way and that. “Are you injured anywhere? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! There were just a few bruises and scratches, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.” Chenle pushes his sleeves up to show Jisung his arms. There are a few abrasions on his hands from when he’d tried to stop the fall, but other than that and the persistent ache in his tailbone, he’s fine. “I just wanted to say thanks, but, um. I’ll go now. You’re a really good dancer. Also just wanted to say that.”

“Thanks.” Jisung’s eyes crinkle up, and he grins at Chenle, his smile wide and gummy. “Oh, I don’t think I ever introduced myself. I’m Jisung.”

“I’m Chenle, it’s good to meet you. You’re seriously such a good dancer,” he says. Just kidding, Chenle wants to say, I’ve already found out what your last name is because your friend Jaemin has no filter, and I’ve been warned to stay away from you or risk having my hair dyed bright pink in my sleep. He doesn’t say that though. He’s not weird. “So, um. What high school do you go to?”

The boy laughs, a noise that sounds like it’s on the cusp of cracking anytime soon, and in retrospect, that should’ve been Chenle’s first warning. “Oh, me? I’m not in high school yet. I’m still in middle school. I go to the one by Seoul Station, the one that has the bright red gates? You might’ve seen it before.”

Chenle’s mind doesn’t register any of the words Jisung is saying, though. He’s already stopped functioning after the words “middle school,” and suddenly, suddenly he understands just why Jaemin had warned him to stay away.

“Anyway,” Jisung says, bright and cheerful, in a tone diametrically opposed to the storm clouds brewing in Chenle’s brain. He imagines himself being led by the police into the back of a squad car in handcuffs. He wouldn’t do well in prison. He needs to have his space to do things that make him happy, and he definitely can’t go to prison. He won’t have enough space to himself to sing and dance around in, much less to ride a horse around in. “It’s been real great meeting you, Chenle, but I really have to go back to practice. There’s a school competition coming up and I want to do well in it so I can get into this high school I’ve been aiming for. Come back again sometime?”

Chenle nods, his mind still completely blank, and he barely even registers Jisung handing his phone over to Chenle, barely even registers inputting his own number in, barely even registers walking out of the dance studio and into the world around it.

It’s only when he’s halfway through ordering a royal milk tea that his brain chooses to unfreeze, and he feels the carefully constructed edges of his entire life start to crack.

Oh no, Chenle despairs. He’s going to prison.

 

 

“You are not going to prison, so stop being so dramatic,” Renjun says at the same time that Jaemin says, “You are so going to prison, and I’m going to be the one that puts you there.”

“You don’t know that, Renjun-hyung, and shut up, Jaemin-hyung, you don’t know me. You don’t know my story.” Chenle barely deigns to lift his head up from his folded arms. There’s no point in doing so when he can already feel the judgmental stare Jaemin is giving him. “Why doesn’t he look like a middle schooler?”

“Just because you look like you haven’t graduated from elementary school doesn’t mean other people are older than they look,” Jaemin says, deceptively saccharine. “He looks like a middle schooler. Haven’t you seen his mushroom haircut? What kind of a high schooler has hair like that? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a hotline to call.”

“No,” Chenle whines, plaintive and pleading, and he grabs the cuff of Jaemin’s sweater as he gets up out of his seat to, presumably, place a phone call. “I have my entire life to live out in front of me. You can’t do this to me.”

“I so can,” Jaemin hisses, wrenching his sweater out of Chenle’s desperate grip. “Give me one reason I should take mercy on your soul.”

“Because I like him,” Chenle says, as sincerely and with as much feeling as he can muster. He looks up into Jaemin’s eyes, and there it is— Jaemin’s eyes are shaking. It means he’s conflicted. Good. “I like him so much, Jaemin-hyung. Please give me your blessings.”

“I will never, ever, _ever_  give you my blessings, so you can forget about it happening,” Jaemin snorts, but he sits down anyway. Chenle chalks it up as a win that Jaemin’s sat down again, but what he’s said is still more worrying. “Why can’t you wait until he goes to high school? Do you know if he wants to come here? Wait, why am I asking you when I can just ask him?”

Chenle perks up. Jisung had mentioned wanting to get into a certain high school, but he hadn’t said which one. If Jisung runs in the same circles that Jaemin does, there are only two high schools the appropriately rich and their affiliates would send their children to, and Chenle’s is one of them. His is an international school, which is why he and Renjun both go there, but it’s also specialized for the arts, which is why Jaemin goes there for piano. Jisung might want to go there for dance, too, and the prospect of being at the same place as Jisung makes his mood instantly ten times better.

“Oh, you’re right! If he comes to this high school, it’ll be legal for me to kiss him because I’ll only be a year older than him and he’ll be in high school.”

“No kissing,” Jaemin says, immediately shutting down the romantic comedy Chenle’s already begun planning in his mind. “Maybe hand-holding if you’re lucky. Additionally, hugs are only after six months of dating, and you have to set up appointments with me if you want to hug him.”

“You’re not even his dad, why are you being like this to me,” Chenle gasps. “Why do you _hate_  me?”

“I don’t hate you,” Jaemin says primly. “I’m just looking out for my son.”

“I thought you loved me. You were so nice to me when we met. You told me I was the cutest bean you’d ever seen in your entire life,” Chenle moans. “You even taught me how to say bad words in Korean when Renjun-hyung told you to shut the fuck up. Where did that Jaemin go?”

“He’s dead,” Jaemin says, his eyes as black as the coffee he drinks. “Just like you if I see you and your dirty paws getting anywhere near Jisung. I’m warning you now.”

A loud crunching noise interrupts Chenle’s train of thought, and he and Jaemin both look over to where Renjun is munching on a stack of seaweed crackers. “Are you two done?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. “I feel like I’m losing brain cells just listening to you two talk.”

“But you can’t lose what you don’t have,” Chenle retorts, and he regrets it almost instantly when Renjun throws the seaweed crackers down on the table and leaps toward him, his arms poised and ready. “No! No! Not the headlock again! Please, I’ll be quiet!”

 

 

The next time Chenle passes by the dance studio, there’s another boy there with Jisung. That guy definitely looks like a high schooler, and when Jisung pauses and waves at Chenle through the window, the other guy looks over, too.

All Chenle wants to know is _who is this guy and why is he interrupting my alone time with Jisung?_

When he pushes open the door of the studio and gets closer, he realizes that he recognizes the boy with Jisung. He’s a bit tanner than Jisung is, and he has a smattering of moles on his cheeks, and Chenle’s definitely seen him before, been at his damn birthday party. It’s Lee Donghyuck, and now all Chenle wants to know is _how does he know Jisung?_

“Hi, Chenle, this is my friend, Donghyuck-hyung,” Jisung introduces, and Chenle waves to him again. It’s not often that he sees Donghyuck without WYH’s Jeno, or vice versa, and it feels strange, like he’s stepped into some alternate universe where they’re not attached at each other’s hips. He wonders if anything happened.

“Hey, Chenle. Good to see you again, hope you’ve been well. I actually have to go meet someone now, sorry.” Donghyuck reaches up to pinch Jisung’s cheek, and Jisung makes a face of disgust but doesn’t push him away. Chenle wishes that were him. “Anyway, Jisung, don’t be afraid to reach out to Mark-hyung if you have any questions about the admissions process. He’s student council president until the end of this year, so I think he’ll be a big help if you ever want to know more.”

Donghyuck leans forward to give Chenle a brief hug as he leaves, and then it’s just Chenle and Jisung in the room. Chenle knows that there are other rooms in the back, but it seems that Jisung prefers this one. “Say, why do you like dancing in this room the most? Aren’t there bigger ones?”

Not that Chenle minds, of course. This means he gets to watch Jisung dance, all of his flowing waves, all of his tightly controlled motions.

Middle school, the brain in his head that sounds suspiciously a lot like Jaemin reminds him, middle school.

“I like taking breaks to look outside. Sometimes, staring at myself in the mirror gets too boring.” Jisung makes a face, one that makes him look like a puffed up marshmallow.

If I were you, I wouldn’t ever stop looking at my reflection in the mirror, Chenle wants to say. Instead, he pulls himself together and says, “I guess that’s a good thing, because if you never looked outside, I might’ve just been laying on the ground forever until someone else decided to come by and save me.”

Jisung laughs at that, and Chenle feels like his stomach has just decided to do the same tumbles he’s seen Jisung do. It’d only been a crush in the beginning, a dumb and stupid crush fueled solely on stolen glimpses of Jisung’s choreo in the window, but now that he knows what Jisung is really like underneath his sharp moves, Chenle’s falling harder than ever.

“Say, do you dance?”

The question is unexpected, and it makes Chenle think back to his family’s baijiu-fueled mahjong and karaoke nights. It’s hard not to get up on his feet when he’s being pulled up by two sets of grandparents, and even harder not to move around to the beat when everyone is egging him on. He’s definitely done his share of dancing, but he doesn’t know if it’s the kind of dancing that Jisung would particularly approve of. He settles for the safer answer. “Nah.”

Jisung grins, bright and wide. “Do you want me to teach you?”

Chenle’s train of thought, which had previously been revisiting his and his grandpa’s horrendously off-key duet of Emil Chau’s “Friends,” abruptly crashes to a screeching halt. Chenle’s brain is going haywire, and he can’t stop it anymore.

“Yes,” Chenle croaks out, clinging almost desperately onto his last brain cell like a lifeline. “Oh my god, yes.”

Jisung’s hand is large and warm when he takes Chenle’s hand in his and leads him to the mirrors, and Chenle thinks that he might have already died and ascended to heaven.

 

 

“Jaemin-hyung, I’m marrying Jisung,” Chenle announces, sauntering over to Jaemin’s desk and dragging a nearby desk over to sit on it. He’s left the first year floor and come up to the second year classrooms just to say this. “You cannot stop me.”

Jaemin looks down at his chopsticks, as if he’s pondering whether or not they can be weaponized, before he switches his grip on them and looks up at Chenle. Okay, Jaemin was definitely figuring out how to use them against Chenle just now, and he feels a little bit of his bravado slip away as he inches backward on the desk. “What makes you think that?” Jaemin asks, his voice even and steady, and—

Chenle flees for his life.

 

 

Over the next few weeks, Jisung teaches Chenle to dance, and in exchange, Chenle sings for Jisung once they’ve collapsed from exertion on the ground. Chenle is the one who actually has to take breaks because he had no idea popping could be so damn difficult, but Jisung is nice and lays down with him on the hardwood floor anyway, so he deserves a reward. The songs Chenle’s best at are all songs Jisung doesn’t know, so he decides to sing some of the more current and trending songs. It’s hard when he’s laying down, when his heart rate is obscenely high, but he makes it work.

“Can you sing something that you really like to sing?” Jisung asks once Chenle’s finished a rendition of Super Junior’s “Black Suit,” and Chenle blinks. There’s a song he really likes, but—

“It’s in English, is that okay?” Chenle ventures, and Jisung nods. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter if Jisung doesn’t understand it; music’s all about sharing cultures and traditions in a way that overcomes language barriers, and Chenle’s cover of “You Raise Me Up” has made thousands of women cry before. He can do this. He scoots himself backwards and props himself up on his elbows so that he can sit up against the wall, and he starts to sing.

Jisung’s eyes are closed when Chenle looks over towards the end of the song. There’s a small smile curving across his face, and when Chenle finishes, Jisung opens his eyes and says, “That was so, so amazing. You’re amazing,” before he’s up on his feet again, pulling Chenle up to his feet as well. It feels like the first time they met for real, Jisung pulling Chenle off of the ground outside the studio, and Chenle can’t help but stare at Jisung’s face the entire time.

“You think so?”

“I know so. Come on, let’s get something to drink. One of my hyungs gave me some half-filled stamp cards for the bubble tea place next door, and I’m going to try to finish one of them up today.” Jisung pulls Chenle to the door, pushing it open, and as soon as the door closes behind them, Jisung lets go of Chenle’s hand. And Chenle feels a brief pang of emptiness.

“I can pay,” Chenle says, digging around in his pockets for his wallet. “You did save me. And you’ve been teaching me how to do cool things like isolations and body rolls, which I feel like I should be paying you for. You’re so good at it.”

“Nah, it’s okay.” Jisung shakes his head. “Think of it as a payment for your song from earlier.”

Chenle probably has enough in his personal account to buy out the land that Jisung’s dance studio sits on, and his family definitely has enough money to buy the entire street of buildings, billions and billions and billions of won of properties. He’s never had anyone treat him to anything before because he’s perfectly capable of affording it on his own, which is why when Jisung hands him his green milk tea with lychee jelly and boba, Chenle’s heart catches in his throat.

Even if nothing ends up happening between them— he doesn’t know if Jisung is willing to be his boyfriend, a word that he mentally censors because of the flush it always brings to his face when he thinks about it, and he doesn’t even know if Jisung likes him or not— Chenle wants him as a friend for the rest of his life.

 

 

“A little birdie told me you want to marry Park Jisung,” Renjun says, sliding into the empty seat next to Chenle in his classroom. Most of his classmates have headed out for activities or gone to buy food in the cafeteria, so Chenle’s not as horrified as he’d be if everyone were around to hear.

He’s still mildly horrified, though, that Jaemin’s been snitching on him. Who knows what else Jaemin tells everyone about him. “A little birdie? Don’t you mean a little snake?”

“A little birdie, a little snake, Na Jaemin, what’s the difference?” Renjun asks, and he doesn’t sound too threatening, so Chenle relaxes for a millisecond. He’s immediately wrong, though. Renjun fixes him with a look that could probably kill— it probably has before, Chenle amends in his mind— and Chenle gulps. “What’s this about marriage?”

Chenle backtracks as quickly as he can. “Okay, by marriage I obviously mean dating. Because he’s in middle school. And I just want to hold his hand so please don’t give me that look. I’m too young and cute to go to prison. I would die there.”

“Then perish. But seriously, though, you know what kind of world you— we live in. It’s not easy for someone normal to just adapt to it once they’re thrown in. Sure, even if you date him and Jaemin doesn’t manage to end your life, you’ll probably have to bring him to meet your family and all that. Not to mention— even though you’re a beta, you’re the only son, and your family might force you into a marriage with someone you don’t want. Your family’s so well off that I don’t think it’ll happen, but it might. Who knows. Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

Chenle’s too far gone, too deep into the attraction born from watching Jisung dance through a window that he’s nursed for months and the affection, nurtured by Jisung’s hands guiding him to the right position in the dance, that’s only exponentially grown over the past few weeks. He doesn’t know if Jisung will even want him once he learns about just how stuffy Chenle’s life really is, how much formality and gesture are valued and treasured in the upper echelons of society, how barbed and double-edged the words he hears are.

But he’s fine with it if Jisung is. He’s willing to stand up to an arranged marriage later on if it means he can have this time with Jisung now.

“Yeah,” Chenle says. “Whatever it takes, I’ll do it.”

Renjun smiles, leans back in the seat, oddly serene. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, tapping on the screen and revealing to Chenle that he’s been on a call this entire time. “Got that, Jaemin?”

Jaemin’s voice sounds out from the speakers, tinny and tired and long-suffering. “Fine. You did good, Chenle. Break his heart and I’ll steal your phone and break your snapchat streaks with all your friends back home.”

That’s a risk Chenle’s willing to take, and he grabs Renjun’s phone from him and blows the biggest and loudest kiss he can to it. Jaemin makes a disgusted noise, one that Chenle absolutely thrives on, and Renjun wrinkles his nose at Chenle.

“Ugh,” Renjun says, his voice dripping with disapproval. “Now my phone’s a biohazard. Shit, I have to get it decontaminated now.”

 

 

Jisung is dancing when Chenle goes down to see him that day. Chenle stops dead in his tracks to watch, and he’s never been more entranced. Chenle can’t hear the music Jisung is dancing to, but it’s a slower one than he usually dances to, and instead of the sharp and powerful moves he’s grown used to seeing, they’re fluid and lithe, sweeping across the room in large motions.

Chenle wasn’t wrong. Jisung is amazing.

Jisung doesn’t even seem to register Chenle’s presence even when he pushes the door open and sits down on the hardwood flooring. It’s only when the music comes to a halt that Jisung shakes himself out of the trance he’d been in, lulled by the music, and notices Chenle sitting and clapping on the floor.

“You were watching?” Jisung asks, and Chenle beams.

“It was so good! Did you choreograph that yourself?”

Jisung nods, and he takes a seat on the floor across from Chenle. “I did, but you weren’t supposed to see that. It— it’s not done yet. I wanted to show you when I was ready.”

Jisung choreographed a dance for him that he didn’t want Chenle to see until it was done? Chenle can’t breathe. “Was this a present? For me?” Jisung nods, slower this time, and he doesn’t meet Chenle’s eyes. “Park Jisung, do you perhaps like me?”

It’s like all time has slowed to a crawl, and Chenle can almost hear his own heart beating with how loud it is.

“Yeah,” Jisung says, looking up from his fidgeting hands. “I do.”

Chenle launches himself at Jisung, wrapping his arms around Jisung’s neck. “I was so, so worried. I like you a lot, Jisung, and I was worried that someone might have already brainwashed you into hating me, and I didn’t know if you were just nice or if you really liked me back.”

“I wouldn’t buy bubble tea for and teach isolations to just anyone,” Jisung says, dry. “Also, Jaeminie-hyung told me you were trouble like the first time I mentioned you to him, but I’ve since stopped listening to him. He lectures too much.”

“Good,” Chenle huffs out. Of course Jaemin’s a snitch. He’d expect nothing less. “For the record, I wouldn’t sing for just anyone, too. Let’s get some bubble tea, I’m treating because I’m older.”

He stands and pulls Jisung to his feet, and if Chenle holds onto his hand a bit longer than he really needs to, neither of them mentions anything at all. When Chenle pushes the door open and steps outside, he very nearly trips on nothing at all again, and it’s only Jisung’s quick reflexes, his arms reaching out to grab Chenle’s arm and pulling him back to stand upright, that keep him from faceplanting.

“Be careful,” Jisung says, and Chenle reaches up to pinch Jisung’s cheek the way he’s seen others do it. It’s soft and reminds him of a rice cake, and he does it again. Jisung’s eyebrows are scrunched together, and Chenle thinks that he’s insanely adorable like this. “What if you trip again? You might hurt yourself.”

Chenle takes Jisung’s hand again, lacing their fingers together, and he grins. “That’s okay. I know you’ll catch me if I fall.”

**Author's Note:**

> [renjun voice] get married already
> 
> here it is, the second installment of the touch the sky series! fun fact: chenle and jisung both have star in their names. #fated #destined #soulmates
> 
> i love love love jichen so much, my Actual Children T_T <3 the abo is light in this part, but i swear it'll Come Up For Real soon. jaemin loves jisung so much i weep. also i hope you don't see jaemin as an asshole, his behavior will be cleared up! soon! once i finish/get started on the jaemin/jeno part. which is the next one, but i have No Idea how long it's going to be sooooo you might be waiting for a bit bc i'm currently applying to medical school T_T
> 
> anyway thank you to everyone who read this!!!! <3 i love you guys hit me up on [cc](http://curiouscat.me/jenuyu) or [twt](http://twitter.com/gaImaegi) if you wanna talk! <333


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